


The Victor

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Cyrodiil's Child [28]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Childbirth, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after losing Martin, Minerva gives birth to his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Victor

Her labor had begun early that morning. It was after midnight and Minerva was still laboring, walking around exhaustedly to try and speed up the process.  _More like waddling…Mara, end this soon, please!_

She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail to keep it off her sweaty face, but strands were whipping about her cheeks as she paced between contractions. She had never felt so large and ungainly as she did in that moment, every muscle in her body seizing violently with a pain that knocked the wind out of her. She clutched the back of a chair, bending over it as she panted and groaned for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

The midwife rubbed her back, taking a bit of the edge off the pain. The contraction stopped and Minerva relaxed for a moment, catching her breath and continuing her walk around the room. “Those two were closer…”

“If you’d like I can check your progress, Milady. It should not be long now.”

She was an older Nordwoman, perhaps in her thirties. Her hands were broad but had a gentle touch. Minerva thanked the Nine Ocato had sent for someone reassuring. Swallowing nervously she nodded and made her way to the bed, trying to keep her mind occupied so her thoughts would not drift to the person who should have been with her.

 _No, he’s here. I can feel him…_  The bed felt so unusually solid and secure at her back, as though someone were holding her. She stared at the ceiling as the midwife worked, confident that Martin was with her. _Please, my love. Help me get through this. Help me bring our baby safely into the world._

Her baby. The Emperor or Empress. The heir Ocato was desperate for. Minerva placed her trust in him concerning her child’s future as the ruler of Tamriel, preparing herself for the possibility that she would be her child’s regent. It frightened her to face such a future and filled her with grief. She was no Empress and could only imagine ruling at Martin’s side. She breathed deeply and pushed those thoughts away. She had no strength left to grieve again, wanting to conserve it all for the sake of delivering her child. Minerva only wanted a healthy baby, the only thing left of the promises she and Martin made to each other.

The midwife confidently announced, “You’re just about ready to push, Milady. I’m going to break your waters now, and when that happens the labor may go faster. Do you understand?”

Minerva nodded frantically, already feeling another contraction approach. She breathed and clutched the bedspread, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to endure. This was only another battlefield. This was Oblivion all over again, the agony just another charred field she had to cross.

 _Yes, that’s it,_ she thought triumphantly as her birth waters dampened the bed. This was her final victory over Mankar Camoran. The Septim line would continue through her, giving the Empire a beacon to unite under once again. She felt a sensation like arms squeezing around her encouragingly and nearly sobbed gratefully.

Minerva pushed for a long time, falling back onto her pillow in exhaustion whenever a contraction ended. She panted supplications to Talos, Mara, and Akatosh, and felt her heart flutter in excitement when the midwife told her that the baby’s head had appeared.

Tears suddenly sprang from her eyes and every sorrow spilled forth. Minerva realized she was not going to be alone. She remembered the terrible pain of the last seven months, feeling her loss like a scar in her very heart. She wept in protest of the injustice of it all. Wasn’t it enough that the gods had taken her parents? Where was her mother to tell her to bear through the pain? Where was Martin to whisper love into her ear and hold their child in his arms? Why did she have to go through this alone?

Gathering the fury and anguish in her heart into the final push, Minerva screamed as her baby finally emerged. She heard the midwife’s happy cry and felt the pain release its hold on her body. Her legs, weak from effort, fell limp on the bed as she caught her breath and finally relaxed, tears still flowing from her red-rimmed eyes.

“A boy, Milady!”

Then she heard him cry.

It was a roar that shook Minerva out of her stupor, and suddenly every thought she had shifted towards the source of that cry. She propped herself up on her elbows, listening to her son gulp for breath before letting out his furious howls.  _He’s breathing…Oh, thank Mara, he’s breathing!_

 _He’s alive!_  Minerva let out a laugh that was half a sob, her arms aching to hold her boy, her world, her everything. She yearned to see her womb’s issue, recalling the happiness she felt when he gave the first fluttering kick that would soon turn into a continuous rolling in her belly. Even then she knew he would be strong.

The midwife had wrapped him in a blanket after cleaning him up and turned to show him to Minerva. She smiled broadly for the first time in ages when she saw him. His eyes were wet and searched excitedly around the room, his slack lips opening and closing. His skin was a healthy pink and his head was covered in a thatch of black hair.

He was a tiny likeness of Minerva, his newborn gray eyes bearing a hint of hazel that would perhaps turn green.

The midwife handed him to Minerva, who unwrapped him from his swaddling blanket and examined his soft body. He was quite big and long-limbed, Minerva feeling the boneless arms and legs with fascination. She gently touched the fine fingernails as he flexed his tiny hand, and she gasped when he grasped her finger.

He focused his infant gaze on her, mouth gaping open as though he were surprised. Minerva saw herself in those eyes, unkempt and exhausted, but with a loving smile on her face. He blinked at her and kept looking as though he recognized her.

 _Do you recognize me?_ Did her son know that it was she who carried him and loved him all those months?

Then she remembered that her son had been resting beneath her heart the entire time during the Battle for Bruma, the trek through Paradise, and the loss of Martin. Did her baby feel all of that fear and pain that went through her entire being?

Perhaps that was how he knew. Perhaps the mind behind those beautiful eyes knew so much more.

_Dragon eyes._

It was nearly dawn and Minerva was still awake, anchoring herself in this moment so she would not lose herself to the endless night of grief that plagued her. She felt her son’s weight in her arms, heavy as her heart.  _Your father would have loved you. He would’ve thought you were the most beautiful being in existence._

She was melancholy as she nursed him, staring at his moving cheeks and trying to retrieve the happiness she’d felt just hours before. He would never know his father’s love. He would never experience Martin’s gentleness and love for himself, and that was the saddest fact out of the entire tragedy.

“…I’ll love you enough for the both of us, Martin Gaius,” she whispered into his ear, deciding on his name as bittersweet tears fell upon his head.


End file.
